


Tyne

by Hibernia1



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Cat, Fluff, M/M, Tyne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 17:15:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10194755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibernia1/pseuds/Hibernia1
Summary: House and Wilson get a pet.





	

When Wilson came home House was in the kitchen chopping something. Bewildered, Wilson rushed to his side in order to investigate this unusual phenomenon. 

“What on earth is that?” he demanded, wrinkling his nose with disgust.

“Cow’s heart,” House answered without looking up. He was meticulously cutting off all the fat of small pieces of red meat and then proceeded to cut those pieces into even smaller ones.

“Why are you cutting up cow’s heart? Don’t tell me it’s for dinner.”

“It is, actually.”

“House!” Wilson shouted, “don’t start! I’m not in the mood!”

“You lost a patient, didn’t you?” House asked, “you always get like this when you lose a patient.”

“I’m not ‘like this’”, Wilson said angrily, “and get that foul stuff out of my kitchen.”

House glanced at him. “Actually, this is my kitchen,” he then said, “and it’s not for _our_ dinner. It’s for the cat.”

Wilson’s eyes grew big. He quickly went over the symptoms associated with a Vicodin-overdose in his mind, but he was pretty sure hallucination wasn’t one of them. “We don’t have a cat,” he said tentatively.

“I think Tyne begs to differ.”

“Tyne?” Wilson was really worried now. House was way over the age at which psychotic disorders normally presented themselves, but that didn’t guarantee anything. “House, are you okay?”

“Peachy.”

“Listen, you haven’t been sleeping well lately, and…” Wilson started, but House cut him off.

“Jesus, Wilson, you’re not a shrink. I’m not psychotic. She’s on the couch. At least she was when I went to the kitchen to make her dinner.”

Wilson threw House a confused look before hurrying to the living room. Looking at the couch, he came to an abrupt stop. There was a tiny cat sitting on the fleece blanket House always pulled over his bad leg. She was white and grey, with huge ears, a rat-like tail and mangy fur, and she was looking at him disapprovingly with greenish eyes. 

Returning to the kitchen, Wilson said accusingly: “why did you get a cat? After Steve died we decided not to get a new pet, remember? And if you had to get a cat, why didn’t you get one that at least looked like a cat? This mutt’s like an oversized rat!”

“Tyne is not a ‘mutt’, and I didn’t ‘get’ her,” House said indignantly. He was putting the tiny pieces of meat into a nice china bowl. 

“She was on the porch when I came home, puking her little guts out. I told her that if she’d let me pick her up without fussing I’d take her to the vet, and she did. After the vet saw her I was gonna take her to the shelter, but somehow I ended up in one of those huge pet stores, so I figured I might as well buy some supplies and keep her.”

House shrugged. “It was one of those things, you know,” he added.

“No, I don’t know,” Wilson said, “I don’t like cats. They always look at me as if they can read my mind. And they have fleas and worms and they smell.”

“She was treated for fleas and worms by the vet,” House said, “and she’ll catch mice.”

“We don’t have mice.”

House briefly looked at Wilson. “We might have gotten them at some point, and now we won’t,” he offered feebly.

Wilson frowned. “You like her, don’t you?”

House just shrugged again, but Wilson knew enough. 

“Fine. We’ll keep her. But you’re paying for any and all expenses, and you’re in charge of feeding her and scooping the litter box.”

“Okay,” House agreed, “you’ll have to do the heavy cleaning and lifting, though.” 

Wilson nodded and sighed. He went back into the living room and sat down next to the cat. She narrowed her eyes, jumped off the couch and leisurely wandered to a fluffy pink cat bed placed close to the fireplace.

Wilson couldn’t help smiling at the contrast between the bed, obviously designed for pampered purebreds, and the skinny little stray sitting in it. He figured House must have been amused by the same thing, which would explain why he’d gotten something pink. House usually wasn’t a big fan of this colour; Wilson found out the hard way the day he’d purchased a pink tie.

House came in, holding the bowl. “Tyne, dinner. Come on.”

He placed the bowl on the coffee table and Tyne immediately joined it. She devoured the meat while purring loudly and waving her tail around like there was no tomorrow.

Wilson opened his mouth to object to the cat eating on the coffee table as opposed to, for instance, the kitchen floor, but decided against it. It was hard for House to bend down far enough to place things on the floor and if Wilson would make too much of a fuss, he’d be the one stuck with feeding the overgrown rat.

“You were hungry, weren’t you?” House asked Tyne when the bowl was empty. The cat made a surprisingly loud noise that sounded like a fog horn and stepped on House’s lap. She made some more noises and pushed at House’s hand with her head. He stroked her and she started purring. 

“She seems to like you,” Wilson observed.

“Cats always like me.”

Tyne yawned, turned around a few times and settled on House’s left leg. Within minutes, she slept. House kept stroking her. 

“Shouldn’t she be meowing?” Wilson wondered, “I’ve never heard a cat make sounds like she does.”

“Tyne’s a bit of a voice artist,” House agreed, “you should’ve heard her puke. It was impressive.”

“Why on earth did you name her Tyne?”

“Haven’t you watched ‘Judging Amy’ lately? Tyne Daly’s hair is the exact same colour as our Tyne’s fur,” House explained. 

Wilson had to admit he hadn’t thought of that, especially since, in fact, he _hadn’t_ watched ‘Judging Amy’ lately. 

“So you plan to name all your pets after actors and actresses?” he asked.

“All my pets? This is the second pet I ever owned!” House answered indignantly, immediately continuing with: “if I had my way, we’d have a horse too, and I’d totally call it John Wayne.”

“Well, I suppose I should count my blessings, then,” Wilson said, “did you happen to do anything about our dinner too, while you were in the kitchen anyway?”

“You ask the weirdest questions,” House said, and Wilson took this as his cue to take off to the kitchen.

While they were eating, some forty minutes later, Tyne sat on the coffee table, watching them with great interest.

“Can I give her some chicken?” Wilson asked.

“No, you can’t. She’s to have cow’s heart and cat food only. Besides, if you feed her while we eat you’ll teach her to beg. No wonder Hector behaved so badly. You’re terrible with animals.”

“Well, at least Hector didn’t sit on the coffee table. Or ate there, for that matter,” Wilson answered, feeling insulted.

“If you want her to eat on the floor you’ll have to feed her yourself,” House predictably said, “and sitting on the table doesn’t wreck anything, whereas chewing on _every fucking thing of any value_ in sight does.”

Wilson decided not to pursue this topic, as he knew House still was mad about some of the records Hector had destroyed.

“Where will she sleep?” he asked instead.

“On our bed?” House tried.

“No way. I don’t want animals in the bedroom.”

“Well, on her own bed, then,” House grumbled, “what do you care? You don’t even like her. But don’t worry, the vet guessed she’s about fifteen years old, so she should be out of your hair pretty soon.”

Tyne chose that moment to let out one of her fog horn-like noises and House reached out to stroke her behind the ears. 

“Sorry, little mouse,” he said, “I forgot, we agreed you’d live to be at least twenty five, right?”

Tyne squeaked and climbed onto House’s lap once more.

“How did you teach her to avoid your bum leg so soon?” Wilson wondered.

“I didn’t. Animals know these things,” House said, patting Tyne. 

Wilson held out his finger for Tyne to sniff at. She seemed to think it over, but then suddenly stepped upon Wilson’s lap and allowed him to stroke her. 

Wilson beamed. “Look House, she likes me!” 

House smiled briefly. “All women like you,” he then said dismissively. 

Wilson stuck out his tongue at him and tickled Tyne in her side. She playfully hit his hand with one of her paws and almost fell over. 

“Tyne, come here,” House said, “you’re not steady enough on your feet yet. You need to get a bit stronger first.”

Tyne immediately stepped on House’s lap again, turned around a few times and fell asleep. 

She was still sleeping when Wilson announced it was time for bed. House very carefully scooped up Tyne from his lap using both hands and brought her to her pink bed, limping painfully without his cane. Tyne briefly woke up, sighed and went back to sleep again.

Much later, Wilson woke up from a weird dream about a boat trip he was making on the river Nile. There was a heavy fog and the fog horns of the ship ware blaring. They just didn’t stop now that the dream was over and he was in his own home in his own bed. He glanced at House, next to him, but House was fast asleep for a change. Wilson frowned, and then remembered. The cat.

He shook his head irritably. He really, really didn’t want a cat in the bedroom, but if Tyne kept howling for much longer she’d wake up House, and House needed his sleep badly. His leg had been keeping him awake for the best part of the week and he’d started to look exhausted. 

Sighing, Wilson tiptoed to the bedroom door and opened it. Tyne rushed in, making excited, happy-sounding noises. She jumped upon the bed and ducked under the covers.

“Shit! No!” Wilson whispered urgently, “come back here, little monster!” He lifted the blankets, but couldn’t see the cat. “Tyne! Come here!” he ordered, but of course Tyne didn’t. House stirred in his sleep and moaned. “Shhhh, everything’s fine,” Wilson whispered in his ear. 

He decided to leave Tyne for now, because he would hate to wake up House. He gingerly lay down again, tentatively stretching his legs, but he didn’t feel any fur. “I hope she _was_ treated for fleas…” he muttered under his breath.

When House woke up the next morning he smiled broadly at the sight that met his eyes. Tyne was curled up on Wilson’s pillow, her tiny body pressed against his head. She opened one eye, winked at him and nestled herself a little more tightly against Wilson’s head. 

“You’re good, mouse,” House told her in a low voice, “you’ll never have to sleep on that pink bed anymore now that Mr.-no-animals-allowed-in-the-bedroom lets you sleep on his pillow. Next thing you know, he’ll be scooping your litter-box.” 

Tyne made a little purring sound and House nodded. “Yeah, works for me as well.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been posting House fan fic on LJ before (ages ago), and now that I've got an AO3 account anyway, I decided to put them here, too. Tyne is based on a cat I had once and loved dearly (and who indeed sounded like a fog horn).
> 
> Warning for language.


End file.
